GREAT APES: Out of Touch 🤳

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When you plug “Hall & Oates and We Are Scientists” into AI, its vast mind short-circuits on mustaches.

CHRIS: Let’s get into it!

When, in 2014, Hall & Oates at last gained entry to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, their class of inductees included Peter Gabriel, Kiss, Linda Ronstadt, Cat Stevens, and Nirvana. That’s an illustrious crew, but I don’t think it's controversial for me to say that in terms of breadth of cultural appeal — perhaps “popularity” is the word — Hall & Oates stand atop the mound. Yes, Nirvana is the more fetishized act, but how often do you hear them played in grocery stores? Sure, Peter Gabriel’s artistic relevance stretches decades, and that’s impressive — but come on, how many actual hits? Kiss certainly has lots of gross Kiss-themed gift shops appended to hotel-casinos, but how many people are still listening to the tunes, not just collecting the bobble heads?

The claim is often made that Hall & Oates are the most successful duo in music history. Indeed, the RIAA crunched the numbers in 1984 and asserted as much, and it’s hard to think of a more recent candidate for the crown(s). (Daft Punk??) Of course, “duo” is a funny category, somehow. Bands usually come in groups of three or more, and “artists” are usually solo. Two — and I know this is mathematically false — is an odd number. But why is that? Isn’t two the fundamental social grouping? Friendships, marriages, partnerships of all stripe — human beings instinctively pair off. I know you’re no anthropologist, Keith, nor a psychologist, nor a sociologist, but you listen to lots of podcasts and sometimes read articles on the internet. Got any insight into this? Why are pairs rare in music, relative to the wider world of human interaction? Is We Are Scientists doing it wrong? It certainly seems to have worked for Hall & Oates.

KEITH: Well, Chris, I know that you were just playing around with your little “two is an odd number” bit, but you actually hit on something there. Once again, buffoonery begets genius revelation, like when Fleming invented penicillin by swapping out his pal’s bon bons for toxic mold spores, or whatever happened. But, yeah — it’s the very *evenness* of the number two that causes the problem, because it makes effective voting an impossibility.

Think about all of the negotiation that needs to occur in the context of a band. Is a particular song good enough to be on the album? Should they call the album Pumpmen?  What color tour bus do we want? If no decisive vote can be taken, you’re at a stalemate, and you might end up calling the album Pumpmen because you’re stuck in fruitless negotiations right up until vinyl has to go to press.

This is why all the best bands enjoy odd-numbered membership. The three guys in Nirvana were a great band — just a *great* band — whereas most of the same guys are in (let’s admit it) a less-great band now, the the four- and then six-piece Foo Fighters. Jackson Five? Great band. Michael Jackson? Pretty great, even if Thriller is no Lobes (see previous installment of SDIR). But The Tito and Jermaine Music Duo Project? Bad. Prince? So awesome. Prince and Loggins? They got so stymied in stalemate voting on whose name would go first that the project never even got off the ground.

And duos are the toughest of the even-numbered groups, because one single dissenting vote causes a logjam. That’s why Fleetwood Mac, despite being a six-piece, had such famously healthy internal politics — the body politic was substantial enough that one or two outliers didn’t upset the apple cart. But, yeah, sometimes when you’re just being fiendishly obstinate about a certain snare sound in a recording, there’s nothing I can do about it except turn to Kat and ask her to talk some sense into you or put you in “time out.”

I think, though, that Hall & Oates works so well because — let’s be honest — Darryl Hall is the boss, right? Does anyone think there’s equity in H&O? Did I just make that up because Hall is taller? Should Oates’ mustache have given him more of an air of authority? Now that I’m confronting it, I’m realizing that I have a kind of baseless conviction that Daryl Hall commands every aspect of the band and Oates just owned the van that they needed.

CHRIS: Hmm, I think I have to disagree (respectfully, Sir!!!). Your talk of band voting dynamics is interesting, but leads me to a different conclusion. I’m going to suggest that two is the healthiest available number, specifically because it’s impossible for anyone to get outvoted. While that might have negative implications for rapid legislative turnaround, it also means that the only path to resolution weaves through discussion and compromise. Simply outvoting a person, while it may settle a matter officially, does not necessarily settle it in the loser’s soul — as you and I know very well from the time we spent as a 3-piece. Of course, a duo comprising two people whose minds differ on lots of important things won’t last long, but that’s probably for the best. Add a third, tie-breaking comrade, and the group might endure longer, but the membership won’t be any happier about it than if they had remained a doomed duo. All will feel constrained by the social convention of democracy for some period of time, then, as ressentiment blooms into resentment, a violent explosion will tear the band apart. Better, I say, to abandon ship early and look for a more sea-worthy vessel, as any dysfunctional two-piece would quickly have to do.

As to whether Daryl Hall was in charge, I’m not sure, and that would mean they were less of a proper two-piece than a solo artist with an omnipresent underling, like Jared and Shannon Leto. Hall was clearly the more versatile musician, and had the iconic voice, but recent squabbles between him and Oates suggest that they were on pretty even footing, at least legally. If not, it’s hard to see how they got into the current scenario (in which Oates is positioned to sell his H&O catalog rights to a third party, against Hall's will). Speaking of the dispute, these turkeys (via their lawyers) are throwing around words like “outrageous,” “outlandish,” “salacious,” and “unimaginable” to describe each other’s position. Some of this would probably sound more moderate if it were google-translated out of legalese, but there is a real rift, of that much we can be fairly sure, and I find that awfully sad. Think about all the shit these two dudes have been through together — 40+ years as an active band — and now they have nobody with whom to sit down, crack a beer, and reminisce. Sure, there are other friends and collaborators they knew along the way, but nobody who was on-board for the whole journey. Whatever money is involved in this disagreement, I can’t imagine it out-values what they stand to lose.

KEITH: But, see, the thing that makes the duo the most dangerous game (unless you've savvy like us or Wham or Michael Knight & KIT) is that a worst-case scenario can arise in which one person might be onto something and the other person is just dead wrong, and so you wind up negotiating with someone whose take is simply *off*.

Say one guy has got a bee in his bonnet about how he wants to have a song that’s in 7/3 time, and so the next song that pops up has just got to be in 7/3, even though his partner sees clearly that this particular song *wants* to be in 4/9, that’s just how it’s gonna feel good and not be a jumble of nauseous cacophony (or, “jazz”).

So, if this were a three-piece, two of those folks are probably gonna see that 4/9 is the right time signature for this very good song. So they outvote Dumb Dumb, and either DD eventually comes to see the error of his ways and thanks the other two — maybe begs forgiveness, ideally — or else always harbors a little grudge, but the song works and probably becomes a big hit and so at least Dumb Dumb can afford to buy the recreational drugs he needs to cope with the psychic pain of having his time signature rejected out of hand.

But if it’s a duo, see, they gotta really argue it out; bust out charts and go take music theory classes together and all of that stuff. And MAYBE one of them comes fully around? Maybe? In a great result, sometimes they stumble upon a third option that excites both of them even more than either original idea. But more likely they have to compromise. Which, you know, in art, maybe compromise is going to lead to a less-strong choice. Like, it’ll make everyone *pretty* happy, but nobody thrilled. The working relationship remains intact, but it rests upon a body of work that is maybe just a squishy pile of lukewarm porridge. They’re gonna compromise and put the song in like 25/18 or whatever the fuck the average of those two time signatures is (I don’t know; you do the math stuff in the band).

That said, yeah, I’m now backtracking on the “a solo artist is preferable to a duo, voting-wise” idea. Because, hell, if the solo artist had wanted the song to be in 7/3, and there were nobody else with vision and vote enough to counter it (to at least negotiate it to a *somewhat* more listenable time signature of 25/18), then that’s what we’d be served: one bad person’s untempered crap. I guess that’s why so much jazz is made by either solo artists or groups with a designated dictator (the Bobby Knuckleknee Trio, or whatever), and why it sounds the way it does. Zero attempts at quality control whatsoever.

As for Oates & Hall, yes, it is sad that their friendship has crumbled (maybe because Hall had created a situation in which he got to make all the creative choices and Oates got to make all of the van-related choices, which could explain why their songs and their van are both shit-hot?). It could explain why Hall had to start Daryl’s House, the TV show where he bribes other musicians with the publicity afforded by network broadcasting to come to his home and pretend to be friends with him, so long as they remember whose name is in the show’s title and on the deed to Daryl’s house.

CHRIS: Yeah, Daryl’s House felt kind of cringe to me the one or two times I tried to watch, but boy oh boy… did you realize that the show’s concept, perverted by time, curdled by the aging mind behind it, has become Daryl’s House: Restaurant and Live Music Club? This appears to be a road house on (or near?) Daryl Hall’s place in Pawling, New York, site of the TV show. The show schedule is replete with tribute acts — upcoming inspirations include ELO, Allman Brothers, Steely Dan, Billy Joel. And the menu boasts classics of equally broad appeal: fried calamari, chicken tenders, chicken wings, pork chops, caesar salad. (Will you one day try their “California Veggie Burger”?) Embarrassingly, the F.A.Q. section of the website forces this barely-legible pun: After listing the hours, you are advised to “CALL before you HAUL.” At least I think that’s a play on dude’s last name(?). Later, less enthusiastically, they write, “All dates and artists are subject to change without notice; always call before you haul.” Hey, what happened to the all-caps?

Before we run out of ignominy, let’s lump some onto Oates. Or should I say, Anteater:

Yes, that’s John Oates, as he appeared over the course of several episodes of TV’s hate crime “The Masked Singer.” Want to hear John Oates sing the Backstreet Boys hit “I Want It That Way”? I’ve got to warn you, he’ll be wearing an anteater costume, but okay, here it is. Want to hear him sing Justin Timberlake’s super-annoying “Can’t Stop The Feeling”? I’ve got to warn you, he duets with a thing called “Cuddle Monster,” but okay, here that is. (NB: Cuddle Monster turns out to be a basketball player, so the vocal mélange is somewhat less polished than what you might be expecting after years of listening to Hall & Oates.)

I guess the lesson is that all famous people debase themselves when they get older, vandalizing their own legacy.

Pop quiz: which is the more messed up album title, John Oates’s Phunk Shui (2002), or Daryl Hall’s Three Hearts in the Happy Ending Machine (1986)?

KEITH: Oh, damn. Okay, I’ve just been considering at Mr. Oates’ legacy all wrong. Because, look, maybe it is a a bit of a debasement to dress up as an anteater and sing the Timberlake songbook on a network TV game show, but it DOES mean (if I correctly understand the point of the show, that is — I’ve never seen it) that someone high up at FOX TV believed there was a plausibly good chance that Oates’ voice is recognizable to a random(?) pool of game show contestants. You know, I’ll bet very good money that my name never even came up in FOX’s conversation about who might don the Anteater crown. So hats off (and Anteater hood on) to John Oates. This one’s for him.

Couple of things for paid subscribers to worry about…

• It’s time for us to answer some more of your questions — you know, the ones that are clawing at the inside of your ribcage like little fetal aliens that gestate in a host. Let em’ out! Let em’ come bursting out, though it’ll cost you everything! The privilege of letting the Inquisitive Aliens come splintering through your thoracic wall is reserved for paid subscribers of the blog, who can go here to drop off their other-species children. (You can also leave suggestions for future Great Apes nearby.)

• Today’s post marks the tenth entry into our Great Apes series, and as anyone who follows W.A.S. closely knows, we are firm believers in 10-song albums. So we’re going to do the same thing we did for the Lobes Reduced acoustic songs, and make Great Apes, Volume I available for download. This should be up and running tomorrow, Sunday at the latest. Just wanted to give you a heads up in case you need to get your MP3 car-stereo repaired.

• If you’re currently a free subscriber to S.D.I.R. and would like to start drinking from the firehose of margarita that paid membership kinda feels like on days like today, you can upgrade here to get access to all locked posts, and receive 100% discount codes for Lobes Reduced and (as soon as it drops) Great Apes, Volume I.

I asked the AI to draw someone drinking margarita through a firehose. It made some curious choices. Why is the person a cop? I guess he has to do something for a job. But also, it looks like the firehose is pumping margarita into the glass, and the cop is having to try to maintain homeostasis by drinking through a standard very large straw — which, Reader, he is managing to do! Seemingly to his own surprise as much as anyone’s! Great stuff. I notice, too, that his fellow officers have arrived on the scene to take him in to custody. Or maybe to drop a couple more straws into what is absolutely a drink-size designed for sharing. Friends, then, not just colleagues!

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